Jesus Said, "Yes!"

This morning I am thinking about the story I heard a man tell on the radio.  He shared how he was engaged in a conversation with his wife while driving home from church one Sunday.  From the back seat, their young daughter interrupted with a question.  “Can I have some candy?”  His wife answered the child glibly, “Why don’t you pray and ask Jesus about that?”  Then he and his wife continued their conversation.  After a few minutes, their daughter interrupted again, with this joyful announcement: “Jesus said, ‘Yes!’”  I’m not sure if the mother’s suggestion for her little girl to pray came from a place of sarcasm or sincerity.  What does seem clear, however, is that the child was not deterred by the question.  In fact, it seems the question empowered her.  She took it to heart that all she needed to do was ask!  As I sit here, I acknowledge that this is not always the case with me.  When there’s something I really desire, the question typically occurs to me also: “Why don’t you pray about it?”  Instead of praying, however, I sometimes do a number of other things.  I strategize, and I rationalize.  I pine, and I whine.  I doubt, and I pout.  I sigh, and sometimes I cry.  The lyrics to an old hymn come to mind:

 

“O, what peace we often forfeit.  O, what needless pains we bear

all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.”

I imagine the little girl, riding in the back seat of her parents’ car, didn't forfeit one bit of peace.  Having been invited to ask, she essentially declared what she desired.  I believe there’s much to be said for the faith of a little child, and today I won’t miss the lesson.  It’s just a part of life that I will sometimes find myself in the backseat of circumstances beyond my control.  In those times, questions may be presented to challenge my faith.  But there, in my most vulnerable moments, I have the power to pray.  There, even in my most vulnerable moments, I can still shout with a triumphant testimony, “He said, ‘Yes!’  Jesus said ‘Yes!’”  And maybe, just as that little girl’s faith encouraged me, my faith may encourage another.  I’m going to pray and ask Jesus about that.      

          

Palate Cleansing

This morning I am thinking about the great meal I enjoyed while out with a friend.  Before bringing out the main course, our server offered each of us a little cup of sorbet.  He said it was to cleanse our palates.  My friend said, “Sure!”  But I declined.  I cynically suspected it was just the server’s way of buying time.  I figured if I said “No thanks,” it would make him bring our meals more quickly.  It didn’t.  So, while my friend consumed the palate cleanser, I had to sit and watch…and wait.  I should have just agreed to partake, too.  When the server finally presented us with the main course, I said, “So, tell me about that palate cleanser.”  He explained that it was intended to clear our taste buds of the flavors from our appetizers to prepare them for the flavors of the main course.  Although my meal was absolutely delicious, I couldn’t help but wonder if it might have been even better had I cleansed my palate first.  Being completely intrigued, I Googled “palate cleansers” as soon as I got home.  I learned that some palate cleansers are bland—like milk, bread, or just plain water.  Other palate cleansers are tart—like the sorbet I had been offered earlier that evening.   In either case, their purpose is to neutralize the taste buds and remove competing flavors.  As I reflect on this today, it is helping me make sense of some of the seasons of my life that seem a bit bland or maybe even kind of tart.  Perhaps these seasons are intentionally ordained to cleanse my heart, mind, and spirit of things past…of courses that may have been quite enjoyable, but they were only appetizers for something else, something greater.  I recall that my rejection of the palate cleanser in the restaurant didn’t hasten the appearance of my main course at all.  Likewise, my resisting the seasons of waiting, of silence, and of stillness won’t usher God’s perfectly prepared courses into my life any faster.  In these seasons of preparation, I would be wise to yield myself to a thorough cleansing from the taste of what was, so that experiences from my past will not overpower or taint the taste of my tomorrows.  Now that I understand it a little better, I will gladly partake of that which prepares me to fully enjoy and appreciate what is to come.  

Why Me?

This morning I am thinking about the question that was posed to me by a fourth grade girl.  She is one of six students with whom I am currently engaging in a book study at her school.  To give a bit of background, I asked the principal to intentionally select students for the book study who were not at the top of their class.  I wanted those were not strong readers and whose classroom conduct was not necessarily exemplary.  What I really hope to do is to provide something for these students they may not have previously experienced…something I feared they may never get to experience if I didn’t take action.  I want to expose them to interesting literature and support them as they interact with it in meaningful ways.  I want to help them make connections between the literature and their daily, lived reality.  I want to guide them to reflect, speak, and write in response to literature.  I want them to be part of a group in which all are accountable and all are successful.  So, the first day I met the students I shared how we will learn together through our book study, and I invited them to ask me questions.  That’s when one girl, who had been relatively quiet, asked “Why did you choose us?”  The look on her face was one of puzzlement.  It was not so much that she didn’t understand what I had said.  The truth is that she was incredulous.  Looking in her eyes, I discerned that there were other questions, unspoken.  “Don’t you know we can’t read?  Don’t you know we failed the big reading test?  Don’t you know we get in trouble a lot?”  I was pierced by the bare honesty of the moment, and I answered the one question she had dared to ask out loud.  My answer was simple: “I chose you because I wanted to.”  After I had dismissed my little group to rejoin the rest of their class, I was quickly writing some notes to leave for the teacher.  I was startled when I felt arms wrapping around me from behind.  I turned to look into the face of the girl who had earlier asked me such a poignant question.  She didn’t say a word…just smiled.  But, once again, I could see in her eyes something unspoken.  It was “Thank you.” 

Well, I can surely relate.  Sometimes when I think about God’s goodness, mercy, and favor toward me, I find myself incredulously asking, “Why did you choose me?  Don’t you know my brokenness and pain?  Don’t you know the terrible choices I have made?  Don’t you know all the times I have tried and failed?”  It makes me smile to realize that, in spite of myself, I was purposely chosen.  It was not because I was good at anything.  It was because He wanted bless my life with things I had never experienced before…things I would never have experienced if He had not intervened.  He continually showers his love and grace upon me so that I can have the privilege of knowing joy in my moments of deepest sorrow, strength in my weakness, peace in the midst of life’s storms, and love without fear.  When my heart asks, “Why me?” the answer is simple. It’s because He wants to.  This means the world to me.  And this is why I embrace Him with my worship.  Though I don’t always have the words to express my gratitude, He hears what resonates in the depths of my soul:  It is “Thank You.  Thank You.”

Who I Am

This morning I am thinking about the exceptionally wonderful experience of seeing my name in print recently.  My boss had emailed me the agenda for an upcoming meeting, at which she wanted me to share some information.  My eyes moved quickly down the page, as I previewed the scheduled topics and presenters.  Then I saw my name with these two letters in front of it: “Dr.” I was suddenly overcome with emotion, and I started to cry.  After four rigorous years of reading, writing, and research, I had finally completed my doctoral program!  While I was overjoyed to have achieved this goal, I hadn’t asked anyone to start calling me “doctor.”  I didn’t want to make a big deal about it.  I wanted to convey, through humility and sincere gratefulness, that I am still the same person.  However, something is different.  I have been forever changed by the knowledge, experience, and insights gained over the past four years.  Sure, I could choose not to apply the lessons I’ve learned, but I cannot unlearn them.  The reality is that whether or not anyone likes it, believes it, supports it, or agrees with it, “Dr.” is a part of who I am.  Reflecting on this, I have gained a bit of confidence to share about another rigorous course of learning in which I have been engaged.  It was not a program for which I signed up.  Yet, I found myself enrolled full time after my beloved big brother passed away in July 2012.  Up until then, I believe I held a metaphorical Bachelor’s degree in Faith.  I knew some stuff about God, for sure.  But, in order to acquire the conviction and character that are prerequisite for the next level of my ministry and destiny, I needed to complete some graduate level courses.  The last five months, in particular, have felt very much like a dissertation and defense!  I haven’t spoken to anyone about it.  I haven’t shared about the tests…or the tears…not even to those who are closest to me.  Through a process I cannot adequately describe, I am being made aware of and liberated from the limits of reliance upon two gods—my emotions and my intellect.  I have been learning how to walk in wisdom that says, “Trust God,” even when my emotions and intellect tell me otherwise.  I have been introduced to Truth that transcends logic, and it is not something I can unlearn.  Whether or not anyone else likes it, believes it, supports it, or agrees with it, it is a part of who I am.  I don’t want to make a big deal about it, though.  In fact, I have to smile as I recall something my big brother used to say.  He’d say: “Notice, you never hear a tree screaming, ‘Hey, look at me!  I’m growing!’ It just grows.”  So it is for me.  I have been planted in the soil of hope, in a field of miracles.  Here is where I will grow into who I am meant to be.  

On Purpose

This morning I am thinking about the peculiar sight I beheld on my way to work the other day.  It was a hearse.  Seeing a hearse was not, in itself, unusual.  But, hitched to the back of the hearse was a trailer filled with a variety of lawn equipment.  My initial reaction was to chuckle.  It was just so odd.  Then I began to question exactly what I was seeing.  Clearly, the trailer wasn’t attached to the hearse by accident.  It had been hitched there on purpose.  But, what was the purpose?  Was he going to show up to do lawn maintenance at people’s homes driving a hearse?  Would that same hearse, on another day, be leading the solemn procession of someone’s dearly departed?  Could that vehicle really be serving such a disparate double duty?  And, while it sure looked like a hearse to me, maybe I was dead wrong.  Perhaps it was someone’s personal vehicle.  If it was a personal vehicle, did he use it for everyday things?  Did he periodically get unhitched and drive it to the grocery store, the movies, or the beach?  I never got to ask the lawn-dertaker any of those questions.  I was just left to wonder.  So, now I am posing an important question to myself.  “What kinds of things might I be dragging around that cause others to wonder about my true purpose?”  Certainly, I have been guilty of hitching myself up to some odd things that don’t fit with who I am called to be.  Regrettably, I know that my hypocrisy has sometimes left people to wonder.  As I ponder this, a favorite psalm comes to mind: “Teach me Your way, O Lord; I will walk in Your truth: unite my heart to fear Your Name” (Psalm 86:11).  For me, this is a continual prayer, because I have experienced the paralyzing prison of double-mindedness and a divided heart.  Today, I lift this prayer yet again.  I pray for grace to conduct myself with integrity.  I pray for power to become unhitched from things that are merely distractions and deterrents.  And I pray for wisdom to walk confidently in my true calling to be a conduit of love, compassion, understanding, and peace…with purpose, on purpose.                   

Daddy, Please.

This morning I am thinking about my conversation with a colleague about the young child she recently adopted.  We laughed as she shared how her husband absolutely dotes on their new son.  One thing that especially brought a smile to my heart was hearing what her son does when he’s out shopping with his dad and sees something he likes.  He simply points to the thing he wants and says, “Daddy, please.”    Although he has only been with them a short time, their son has observed a pattern of behavior in his father that indicates two things:  his father is able to give him good things and his father is willing to give him good things.  Sometimes their son is given the object of his desire right away.  At other times, he doesn’t leave the store with what he wants.  Yet, he doesn’t fret over it.  Because sometimes, on an ordinary day when the child is just playing contentedly, his dad will present him with a surprise...a toy, a game, or something else that he’d previously requested.  In those moments, both father and child are delighted.  That conversation with my colleague stirred up happy memories of “asking and receiving” from my own dad.  It has also led me reflect on how I approach my Father, God, about the things I desire.  In doing so, I had to swallow a rather bitter pill of truth.  Somewhere along the line, I forfeited the simple gift of asking.  I traded it for second-guessing, manipulating, pining, and whining.  At the root of it all was the fact that I simply did not like to wait.  I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it!  Well, one of the beautiful things about the truth is that it restores clarity for me.  And, what is clear to me in this moment is that, over the course of my life, I have observed a pattern of behavior in my Father that indicates two things:  He is able to give good things to me and He is willing to give good things to me.  In my spirit, I sense a sweet invitation to “Ask what you will.”  I realize that I might not receive it all today…or tomorrow.  But I trust that, on ordinary days when I’m just praying contentedly, He will present me with the desires of my heart.  For now, I simply say, “Daddy, please.” 

Daddy's Got Him!

This morning I am thinking about an adorable little boy I saw while at the mall recently.  I am guessing he was a little more than two years old, and he was clearly exploring the boundaries of his independence.  About two feet in front of the boy, his father was leading.  He looked back at his son every few seconds, smiling.  Trailing about two feet behind the boy was his grandmother.  She was pushing an empty stroller which the boy had apparently rejected.  All of a sudden, the little fellow stopped dead in his tracks.  When his father turned to look, the child flashed a mischievous grin, turned abruptly, and took off running in the opposite direction.  I couldn’t help chuckling when the boy put a wicked move on his grandmother, slipping past her outstretched arms that were intended to catch him.  Running as fast as he could, the boy darted into a store.  He never looked back, so he didn’t realize that his father was in full pursuit and closing in on him.  Among the amused onlookers, there was another father who was shopping with his young daughter.  There was concern in the little girl’s voice as she said, “Daddy, he’s trying to sneak.  That’s bad, isn’t it?”  My heart melted at the tenderness and comfort in his voice as he answered, “It’s alright.  His daddy’s got him.”  Then as if on cue, the little boy’s father emerged from the store, holding the little boy in his arms.  Today I’m reflecting on how I’ve been like that little boy so many times.  I’d start out following the leading of my Father in the direction of my purpose.  But then, for one reason or another, I would stop following and take off in some other direction of my own choosing.  I put some wicked moves on the outstretched arms of wisdom and discretion, too.  Dodging past them and running with all my will, I didn’t look back.  As I recall some of the “stores” I darted into, my emotions range from deep regret to flat out terror.  I realize it is only by grace that I made it out of some of those places.  In retrospect, I don’t know what I was doing, and I don’t really understand why.  What I do know is I am so thankful that my Father was always in full pursuit.  I am thankful that He always came to get me.  So, I refrain from hypocritical judgment of others who appear to be heading full speed down paths that seem contrary.  I resist the temptation to criticize the choices of others, as though I have always done only that which was perfect and good.  Daily I pray to choose compassion over condemnation in the way I think about others, because that is certainly what God does for me.  Yet there are still times when judgment, masked as concern, rises up in me and I find myself asking, “That’s bad, isn’t it?”  At such times I pray to remember this simple, but powerful, truth about God’s children whatever their circumstances:  Daddy’s got him.  Daddy’s got her.  Daddy has got us.  And it’s alright. 

The Lizard Tragedy: A Lesson In Faith

This morning I am thinking about the startling mini-drama I witnessed while waiting at a red light the other day.  I’m not exactly sure what made me look down at the road.  But there, in the intersection, was a lizard.  The poor thing was nervously jumping and spinning, dodging and darting, barely escaping one barreling vehicle after another.  As I watched, I began to feel great anxiety.  At the same time, I felt great admiration for the little lizard’s agility and tenacity.  Then I saw the lizard disappear under the wheel of a passing car.  I looked away for a moment, not wanting to see what was sure to be death by tire.  To my surprise and delight, however, the lizard survived!  I could see that a significant portion of its tail was missing, but it was still alive.  I broke into a smile as the lizard scurried out of the lanes of traffic and stood, appearing a bit dazed, near the median.  I breathed a sigh of relief and started to celebrate, thinking “Oh, thank goodness, he made it!”  That’s when a seagull swooped down, grabbed the lizard in its beak, and flew away.  I was stunned by this unexpected turn of events.  My happy ending had been abruptly rewritten.  I felt a bit silly as I tried to will myself not to cry, especially when I saw the man in the car next to me trying hard to suppress a grin.  I knew there was a timely lesson for me in the lizard tragedy, but I couldn’t fully process it right away.  As I sit here today, though, I am taking time to meditate on what I needed to see.  If I had to sum the lesson up, it would be that sometimes there is no happy ending.  Sometimes it’s just The End.  Sometimes, despite my most sincere prayers and earnest hopes, things just don’t turn out the way I wish they would.  It is in such moments that I am tested, and I am starting to recognize that the test questions are often the same: Do you still believe that God is good?  Do you still believe that God is able?  Do you still believe that God is?  And I answer “Yes,” even as some of my fondest dreams fly away, while all I can do is watch.  And I answer “Yes,” even as I try to will myself not to cry.  I realize it is there, in those places where it seems I am at the end of my hope, that faith arises and takes a firm hold on my heart.  And I answer “Yes,” because I am learning something through each trial.  My faith doesn’t remain steadfast because God always gives me what I want.  Instead, my faith is rooted and established in the assurance that God always gives me what He is…namely, strength, peace, wisdom, and love.  The more I reflect what God is, the more I believe that God is.  So, even in the midst of the most difficult tests, I can answer “Yes, I believe.  I still believe."  Amen.

Swim, Baby, Swim!

This morning I am thinking about part of a conversation I had with my big brother, Andy, before he passed away.  I was relaying to him a curious dream I’d had.  In the first part of the dream, I was at the beach.  Other than the gentle movement of the waves, there was no action at all.  There was just me, standing in water that came about chest high, looking toward the shore.  In the second part of the dream, I saw myself out in the midst of the ocean, treading water.  I looked around, puzzled at how I had drifted so far that I could no longer see the shore.  After all, I hadn’t done anything.  Last I could remember, my feet were firmly touching the ground.  I knew if I didn’t start swimming the back, I would just keep drifting.  And that’s when I woke up.  After listening intently, Andy responded in the fatherly tone he sometimes used when he wanted to either caution me or encourage me.  He said, “Well swim, Baby.  Swim.”  Presently, I am struck by the irony that this dream seems to have come back to me so that I will wake up.  In the quiet and stillness of the morning, I caught a good glimpse of myself in the midst of this ocean called life.   I called to mind a time when I stood so firmly and surely on the things I believe in, no matter how ridiculous they may have seemed.  But today I saw myself in a vulnerable place, as though treading water.  I was puzzled as to how I had drifted so far.   Last thing I knew, my feet were firmly touching the ground.  But, then I began to recollect waves of sorrow and heartbreak.  No, they didn’t take me under, but they moved me.  I also recalled undercurrents of doubt from desires unfulfilled and unjust circumstances that have not changed.  They haven’t knocked me down, but they have moved me.  And I am aware of the swift-moving tide of popular culture that seems increasingly callous, self-centered and vain.  It hasn’t carried me away, but it has moved me.  Subtly, but surely, I have been drifting.  I could try to make excuses or justifications by saying, “But I didn’t do anything!”  And, really, that is the point.  My drifting has been a direct result of my own inaction…those times when I didn’t say or do anything because “I tried before and it didn’t work” or “No one wants to hear that” or “I’m only one person.”  While all those things may be factual, they don’t resonate in my spirit as true.  What’s true is that I still believe in love, kindness, faithfulness, generosity, honesty and trust.  I still believe in mercy, forgiveness, healing, and restoration.  I still believe in good.  I still believe in miracles.  So, today it’s not Andy’s voice I hear, but that of One from within saying, “Swim, Baby.  Swim.”  This exhortation is calling me out of complacency and back to intentional, focused choices that allow me to love, give, care, and trust with all my heart.  It is calling me back to choices that go against the fear-based passivity I have often tried to pawn off as peace.  This will bring me back to the place where I have a clear view of the shore I call Hope, and that is where I am supposed to stand.  There, on the shore of Hope, is where countless blessings have manifested before.  And there is where countless blessings will manifest again and again.  This I know.  Amen.     

Walk With Me

This morning I am thinking about the stranger I met at work yesterday afternoon.  It was approximately 1:40 p.m., which meant I had about twenty minutes to quickly check emails and voice messages before my 2:00 meeting started.  The man had stopped his white truck to let me pass, as I walked across the parking lot and headed for one of the building’s side doors.  I was already halfway down the hall, near the elevator, when I heard the pounding on the door.  When I turned to look, I was surprised to see the man standing there beckoning for me to come back.  He was holding up a box and pointing to it, mouthing words I certainly could not hear.  Surely he didn’t think I was going to walk back down there and open a side door to a secure building for a stranger with a box.  I was annoyed.  I figured I would just turn around and ignore him, but for some reason I just couldn’t.  Knowing that he had seen me see him made me feel…well, accountable.  So I walked back down the hall toward the door.  He began pointing to a label on the box, and I was thinking, “Come on, man.  You’re not going to fool me with some box.  I watch Investigation Discovery!”  When I was close enough to the door, I could see two things.  First, I could see that the truck he had parked along the side of the building was for a delivery company.  Secondly, I could see that the label on the box bore the name of a colleague who worked in the building.  I began pointing in the direction of the main entrance, because that’s where deliveries are supposed to be made.  He started mouthing words again.  And again I pointed…this time with a more sweeping gesture…toward the main entrance.  Then he dropped his head and started to walk away.  As he did, I guess I lost my mind a little because I stepped outside the door.  “The main entrance is right around there,” I called after him.  He turned around and pointed to his mouth, and in an accent I didn’t recognize he said, “My English…I’m sorry...it is locked, no?”  The annoyance and suspicion I felt gave way to compassion, and I said, “Walk with me.”  Together we started walking around the building to the main entrance.  “My truck,” he offered.  But I declined with a side-eyed look.  (After all, I watch Investigation Discovery.)  As we walked, I learned that he had entered one of the side parking lots.  Consequently, he never saw the main entrance and had been going from one locked side door to another.  When he finally saw the main entrance, his face lit up with a childlike grin.  He thanked me sincerely, as he made his delivery.  And I made my way to my meeting.  Upon reflection, it occurred to me that he really might have been some kind of crazed, box-toting killer.  On the other hand, he could have been an angel in disguise.  What I really think, though, is that he was just someone who needed a little help to find his way.  Today, I am praying for eyes to see and ears to hear others who are feeling frustrated and lost—mentally, emotionally, and spiritually—after knocking on one locked door after another, searching for the way to know and fulfill their purpose.  I pray for a heart to discern those who are of no danger to me, but are just souls who may need a little help along paths that I have already known.  Even when it seems to be an inconvenience, I pray for the grace to say, “Walk with me” until they find their way.                    

Stolen Goods

This morning I am thinking about the recent naughty deed committed by my sister’s Australian Shepherd, Midnight.  The sequence of events went like this.  A large bowl was placed on the kitchen table, filled with delicious, fresh-out-of-the-crockpot, beef cubes for stew.  This was done so that the vegetables could cook separately.  (When the beef and vegetables are put together, it is so very good!)  Well, while the vegetables were cooking, and while no one was watching, Midnight made his way into the kitchen.  To put it mildly, there was quite a bit of confusion and surprise when a completely empty bowl was found where a beef-filled bowl had been left.  I tried hard to contain my amusement as it was recounted to me how Midnight was just lying calmly on the floor in the hall, looking ever so innocent.  Yet, I could not withhold my laughter when I heard the statement, “But I had the bowl covered with a paper towel.”  The paper towel, by the way, was recovered from the floor.  I guess what really tickled me was trying to picture Midnight saying to himself, “That sure smells good.  There’s a paper towel over it, though, so I’d better not touch it.”  Clearly, that’s not how Midnight rolls.  When he stands, he can easily place his paws on my shoulders.  A kitchen table and a paper towel were certainly no deterrents to him satisfying his curiosity or his appetite.  Besides, he has been charged and found guilty in prior incidences of such stolen goods.  I marveled, not quite able to understand why the bowl of beef was placed where it was so susceptible to being detected and devoured.  Today, I am marveling as I ask myself why I sometimes do the same thing.  No, I don’t mean with bowls of beef.  I’m talking about other goods that are much more valuable.  There are times when I carelessly set them in some very vulnerable, dangerously low places.  (A very wise man once summed this up as “leaning to my own understanding.”)  It really should come as no surprise when " big dogs" of anxiety, doubt, discouragement and fear quickly commence to consume these goods.  Even my strongest platitudes are powerless against their hunger.  Much like a paper towel, my best carnal efforts to cover myself are tossed aside and fall to the ground.  But, oh how I love moments like this!  I embrace these sweet, sacred times when I am reminded that I can confidently put my treasures—my joy, my peace, my hope, my confidence, my love—in higher places.  Sure, the dogs will still be able to sniff out good things that are being “cooked up” just for me, and they will seek to snatch my treasures away.  But there are some places to which the dogs cannot ascend.  I’m so glad that I can look and reach to those higher places, to places of Faith and Spirit.  There my goods are never stolen or devoured.  Instead, they are preserved while every aspect of my life is being perfectly prepared for purpose.  And, when it all comes together, it is going to be so very good!  

What I Can Expect to See

This morning I am thinking about something I heard myself say while I was sitting with my young mentor student.  The adorable Kindergartner loves for me to read stories to her, and it has been delightful to observe her take an increasingly active role in the “reading” over time.  Initially, she just told me flat out, “I don’t know how to read.”  She would focus her attention solely on the pictures while I would read the words.  But now she is starting to pay more attention to the words, pointing out the words she recognizes in some of her favorite picture books.  I know that, eventually, she will be reading chapter books and novels that have no pictures at all.  Then she’ll have to use only words to form pictures in her mind.  Lately I’ve been trying to arm her with the strategy of using picture cues to help with reading even more words.  For example, if she sees the words “The dog can eat,” she can expect to see a dog eating somewhere in the picture.  So, we have been practicing this new skill of checking the picture to see if it matches what the words say.  While reading a book with a counting pattern the other day, she recognized one of the number words.  Before taking a look at the picture, I asked her, “What does the word say?”  Immediately in my spirit, I knew that the same question was being asked of me by my Teacher:  “What does the Word say?”  All too often I get lazy, and I focus my attention solely on the pictures…those things that I can see and perceive with my natural eyes.  And, like an immature reader, I begin to just make things up, based on the story I think the picture is telling.  But, as I continue to develop in spiritual maturity, I realize I must increasingly pay attention to the Word.  It is the Word that determines the picture, not vice versa.  If the Word says “peace and healing” I can expect to see peace and healing.  If the Word says, “grace and favor,” I can expect to see grace and favor.  My reflection today is that there is always a purpose for reading—to gain understanding, to make connections, to acquire and apply knowledge, or maybe just to relax and enjoy.  The more Word I know, the better I will be able to do all of these things.  I will be a much better “reader,” in a spiritual sense.  And, for the times when there is only the Word, I will find that I have the power to make the pictures manifest.